“My god, do I have to close every loophole?”
“Water under the bridge, MacAullif. The point is, here’s what we’ve got.”
I gave MacAullif a rundown of the motel situation.
“Interesting,” he said.
“Yeah. Jersey Girl tells an unconvincing story about staying there because Vinnie had a girlfriend, staying in two rooms because she didn’t know him that well, and then one because she did. She categorically denies staying there with Tony Gallo. She can’t imagine why Vinnie would have rented the room if it weren’t for business.”
“Oh, so this is
her
theory?”
“That doesn’t make it wrong. Despite the fact that most of what she says is suspect. She’s banging Tony Gallo. Tony Gallo’s wife, incidentally, has a terrific temper and might be inclined to kill someone.”
“Vinnie Carbone?”
“I have some theories there.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“One, she’s pissed off at him for arranging the rendezvous between his girlfriend and her husband.”
“Thin. If she was going to kill someone, she’d kill her.”
“Sure, but Tony’d know she did it, even if the cops didn’t. On the other hand, if she can kill Vinnie and make it look like his girlfriend did it, she’s killed two birds with one stone.”
“And how does she do that?”
“Plants the gun on her. Which I’m sure any New York cop worth his salt would have found, but their New Jersey counterparts don’t.”
“You said that, not me.”
“Anyway, that’s how I see it. The motel manager’s in league with Tony Gallo. Which is why his motel is used for high-level meetings of the mob.”
As if he could read my mind, MacAullif stuck a finger in my face. “You stay away from the motel manager.”
“I won’t go near him. But it would be easy enough to see if he has a record.”
MacAullif threw up his hands. “Finally we come to it. You can’t just talk things out. You’ve always got an ulterior motive.”
“I don’t think it’s ulterior, MacAullif. I think it’s rather central.”
MacAullif snatched up a vial from his desk, popped a pill in his mouth, swallowed it down.
“What’s that?”
“Blood pressure medicine.”
MacAullif must have been really trying. As I went out the door it occurred to me the whole time I was in his office he hadn’t cursed once.
46
T
HE MOTEL MANAGER WAS WHITE
as a sheet. “You stay away from me.”
I put up my hand. “Hey, not to worry. You got nothing to fear from me. So you identified me. It was your civic duty, you had to do it. But don’t worry, I’m not a threat.” I paused, added, “Physically.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“If you were involved in the hit, you’ve got a lot to fear. Not from me, from the cops. Well, from me indirectly, because I’ll turn you
in
to the cops. Right now I know more than they do. That’s because they’re sold on the idea I did it. I happen to know I didn’t, which gives me a big edge. What’s more, I happen to know the game you’ve been playing with Tony.”
“Tony?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know who I mean. Anyway, I’m putting the squeeze on your operation here. Not as payback for the murder rap—hell, those things happen. No, I’m doing it because it’s my civic duty. Just like you ID’ing me. But it’s not payback. Not at all.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t. You just manage a motel. You got nothing to do with the mob.”
“You’re crazy. You get the hell out of here.”
“I’m going. You just think about what I said.”
That was my litmus test. I figured if he was connected with the mob, I’d hear from Tony Gallo. If he wasn’t, the cops would pick me up.
The cops picked me up.
47
I
T WAS MY OLD FRIENDS
, Bad Cop and Gotsagoo, or as I now knew, Sergeant Fuller and Morgan. You’d think they’d get tired of seeing me, but, oh no, every time I turn around, there they are again.
This time they nabbed me on the approach to the George Washington Bridge, cleared a lane with their sirens to let me get off. They hauled me out of my car, stuck me in the back of theirs.
“What is it this time?” I said.
Bad Cop had not mellowed toward me. “Guess.”
“I haven’t got a clue. I sure hope someone isn’t dead.”
Fuller’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think someone’s dead?”
“I
don’t
think someone’s dead. I have no
reason
to think someone’s dead. Except every time you pick me up, someone is. If that happens to be the case, do let me in on it, because I’d like to know who I’m charged with killing this time.”
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t. And my wife can back me up on that. Is someone dead?”
“No one’s dead. It appears you’ve been impersonating an officer again.”
“Who says so?”
“Angela Russo.”
“Who?”
“Vinnie Carbone’s girlfriend.”
“Oh, Jersey Girl. That’s absolutely false.”
“You deny you’ve been harassing her?”
“Her ass. Nice play on words. Did you mean that?”
“Do you deny you called on her again?”
“Called on her? Is that a crime? I thought you said impersonating an officer.”
“Well, that’s what you’re charged with.”
“Old news. I’ve already been arraigned. Or do you have something else?”
“You know what I mean. You’ve done it again.”
“Done what again?”
“Impersonated an officer.”
“I beg to differ. I’ve
never
impersonated an officer. And I’ve certainly never done it
again.
”
“When’s the last time you talked to Angela Russo?”
“Gee. I’d have to consult my social calendar.”
“Don’t be an asshole. You want to be arrested again?”
“You mean I’m not?”
“We’re just talking here. If it’s a friendly talk, maybe you go on your way.”
“That’s nice. How’d you find me?”
“Huh?”
“You dragged me off the George Washington Bridge. How’d you know I was there?”
“We bugged your car.”
My mouth fell open.
Bad Cop grinned. “Gotcha. Boy, that one always gets ’em.”
“You didn’t bug my car?”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s too much trouble getting the warrant.”
“I don’t think he appreciates your sense of humor,” Morgan said.
“So how’d you know?”
Fuller ignored that question, said, “You find that gun?”
“I’m afraid I can’t comment on the subject of a court subpoena.”
“Of course not.”
“And you guys know that. So why’d you pick me up?”
No one answered.
I looked at them, considered. “You had no reason to pick me up. And you have no right to hold me. Unless you bring me in and charge me with something.”
Bad Cop shrugged. “We could do that.”
“Go ahead.”
They didn’t. We stood there staring at each other, and nothing happened.
It was wonderful. I called their bluff and beat ’em. I nearly swaggered as I got out and walked back to my car. No one stopped me. I backed up and drove off.
I was feeling pretty good until I realized I was still on the hook for murder.
48
I
WAS RUNNING OUT OF
options. I had tweaked the motel manager and it hadn’t led to Tony Gallo. That didn’t mean Tony Gallo was innocent, merely that the motel manager probably was. Not surprisingly, all my efforts had come to naught.
“You’re doing fine,” Alice said.
“Fine? I’m charged with murder.”
“Aside from that.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“No. But it’s an absurd charge, and it’s gonna go away. Meanwhile, you’re making progress. You poked the motel manager and Tony Gallo didn’t react.”
“The cops did. That means he called them.”
“Of course he did. You’re a murder suspect he ID’d, and you’re hassling him. Any rational person would call the cops.”
“That means he’s innocent.”
“So?” Alice said.
“It would be easier if he was guilty.”
“It would be easier if the killer confessed, said he was a bad boy, and promised not to do it again. Stanley, this is a good thing. Every time you eliminate one person from your list of suspects you wind up with a shorter list. You tweak the motel manager and he goes to the cops. You tweak the Jersey Shore bimbo and she
doesn’t
go to the cops.”
“She took her clothes off.”
“Exactly. It’s her first line of defense. With the motel manager it’s the cops. With her it’s her body. That makes you suspicious. Among other things.”
“What other things?”
“Voyeuristic. Tumescent.”
“You’re enjoying this too much, Alice.”
“I’m not enjoying this too much. It’s a real conversation killer in almost any social situation. ‘How’s your husband doing?’ ‘He’s being tried for murder.’ You’d be surprised at how few people have a follow-up question.”
“Alice. Do you suppose you could direct your razor-sharp wit toward getting me out of this predicament?”
“How could I do that? I don’t have all the information. There are a number of questions here, and you don’t have the answers. Until you do, it’s hard to know what happened.”
Questions? Oh, dear. Was the Socratic method rearing its ugly head?
I took a breath. “All right, Alice. What questions would you like answered?”
Alice considered. “Why did the widow hire you?”’
“Huh?”
“That’s the first question, isn’t it? That’s how this all started. The woman hired you to follow her husband. Why?”
“He was cheating on her.”
“Yeah, but he wasn’t. He went to a motel. He’d didn’t meet a woman, he got shot.”
“He didn’t know that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes no sense. Would you go to a motel if you knew you were going to get shot?”
“It probably would not be my first choice of accommodations.”
“You’re having too much fun, Alice.”
“I’m not having fun at all. I’m trying to make some sense out of the situation. You’re the one saying things like, ‘Would you go to a motel to get shot?’”
“Well, that’s what you were implying.”
“I was doing nothing of the sort. You’re the one who suggested he went to a motel to get shot. That’s absurd. He didn’t go a motel to get shot. He didn’t go to a motel to meet a woman. The truth lies somewhere between the two.”
“You think he went to the motel to meet Tony Gallo?”
“Well, Tony Gallo was there, wasn’t he? In the next room. With the connecting door. So he goes to the motel to meet Tony Gallo and Tony Gallo kills him.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But say he does.”
“Okay, say he does. What’s your point?”
“Why did the widow hire you?”
49
F
OR A WIDOW
,
SHE LOOKED
good. Which figured. She’d also looked good as a wife. Come to think of it, she’d looked good as a widow the last time I’d seen her. Basically, the woman just looked good.
She was surprised to see me. Which said something. After all, she had a doorman, he’d called upstairs, she knew it was me. And yet, she looked surprised.
She took me into the living room, sat me on the couch, just as if it were a social occasion. She was wearing a spandex something or other in lime green. I wondered how long her husband had to be dead to forgive the color.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here?”
“You hired me.”
She stared at me. “That employment is over.”
“Why, yes, it is. But the consequences aren’t, and you’re entitled to a report.”
“A report?” The widow Marston could not have looked more surprised had I told her I was secretly Spiderman. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No, I took the money, and I ought to give value, no matter how extenuating the circumstances. How much do you know about the second murder?”
“What second murder?”
“So you don’t know. Let me bring you up to speed.” I gave her an abbreviated version of the Vinnie Carbone killing. “The guy who had the motel unit next to your husband’s was murdered. Vinnie worked for a mobster named Tony Gallo. Vinnie’s girlfriend may have been involved. She’s alleged to have been holding the fatal gun.”
“Alleged? Why alleged?”
“The cops haven’t been able to find it.”
I figured that covered the situation.
As with Jersey Girl, I could see the widow’s wheels turning.
“What’s this got to do with me?”
“If it’s related to the murder of your husband, it’s got a lot to do with you.”
“But it isn’t related to the murder of my husband.”
“No, because the private investigator you hired killed him on a whim.”
She took a breath. “I don’t know what your motive was. I don’t know what you hoped to gain. I’m trying to forgive you. Well, maybe not forgive you, but I’m trying not to jump across the table and gouge your eyes out. Unless you’ve got something else you’d like to torture me with, could you have the decency to leave me alone?”
“Just tell me one thing.”
“What?”
“Why did you hire me?”
“You know why I hired you. To see if my husband was having an affair.”
“He wasn’t.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“What made you think he was having an affair?”
She opened her mouth, closed it again. “I don’t have to answer your questions. I don’t have to justify myself to you. The police think you killed my husband. You’ve given me no reason to think differently. I think this interview is over.”
It was frustrating. Unless the woman seriously thought I killed her husband, you’d have thought she’d have been more interested in who possibly did. The problem, of course, was that I’d damned myself with my own story. According to me, I was the only one who went into that room.
I left the widow Marston’s feeling more depressed than ever. Alice had challenged me to find out why the widow hired me. After my conversation with her, I was not one whit closer to knowing.
50
I
STAKED OUT HER APARTMENT
, which wasn’t easy. In case you’re thinking of becoming a PI, staking out an apartment in Manhattan is whole different ballgame than staking out a motel in New Jersey. It’s not just peeing in a Gatorade bottle anymore. It’s what are you going to do with your car? You can’t sit in it because you can never get a parking spot close enough to the door. If you double park or sit by a fire plug, you’re screwed, because if your quarry leaves on foot you can’t leave your car.